


Repast

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 15:03:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21459988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: They have dinner.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 20
Kudos: 122





	Repast

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s been a long time since they’ve shared a meal in a proper restaurant, as opposed to the mess hall on the Enterprise or either of their quarters. They’ve only been back for a day, and they arrived too late in the evening yesterday to do much of anything—Jim just wanted to crawl into their apartment’s double bed and sleep. Spock indulged him. This too is an indulgence, but one that Spock hardly minds. Though there should be no discernable difference, he does find non-Synthesized foods to be slightly more satisfying.

He spends a moment poring over the menu before Jim orders for both of them, which suits Spock just as well—Jim knows what he likes. Jim knows all of his restrictions. For the most part, Jim follows them too, although his dishes tend to be spicier and more aromatic. The waitress collects their tablets and leaves. In her absence, there’s nothing to do but look at one another. They could talk, of course, but they do that all the time. There is no living being in all the universe that Spock knows quite as well as Jim, and that includes his own family. If they wished, they could probably conduct an entire conversation within the confines of their minds, but the restaurant is too noisy to bother. 

There’s a hushed but ever-present buzz around them. Silverware clatters, food is consumed, and discussions ebb and flow in dozens of different languages. The place is mostly full, which makes sense, given its close proximity to Starfleet Headquarters—Jim and Spock will both be headed there after their meal. They’re even already done up in dress uniforms, and that might be why several people have been covertly eyeing them. Either that, or they’ve noticed how incredibly _attractive_ Spock’s t’hy’la is, and they, like so many others before them, have simply gotten caught up in Jim Kirk’s powerful orbit. As far as Spock knows, he’s the most successful case—the only one to survive crash landing in Jim’s arms. He acknowledges that someday they could very well part, and he’ll be left heartbroken, logic be damned, but he doesn’t foresee that future for them. Spock is quite sure that their bond will last as long as they both live, then longer. Jim smiles at Spock as though he’s thinking the same thing. 

He slides one hand across the table, coming perilously close to Spock’s, but Spock pulls his back. Jim lifts a brow, eyes glinting mischievously in the dim fluorescent light. Spock murmurs levelly, “It would be unwise to start.”

“Start?” Jim teases, like he doesn’t know exactly what the simple act of holding hands does to Spock, _especially_ when it’s Jim’s fingers wrapped around him. “I wasn’t doing anything...”

Spock insists, “Not in front of the other patrons, Captain.”

Jim’s grin twitches. But he nods and acquiesces, “Very well, Commander.”

With a sigh, he settles back in his wooden chair. He lets his gaze roam the surrounding tables, the wide windows, and the elaborate paintings on the wall. He doesn’t linger long on anything, not the way he does on Spock. He says, “I’ve been really looking forward to this.”

“Earth?”

“Having dinner with you.” Jim turns back, his eyes piercing into Spock again, like he’s looking right down into Spock’s very katra, and he might well be doing so. Spock subtly digs his fingertips into his palm and restrains his instinctive reaction. 

Spock says, “We share our meals quite often.”

“Not like this. Not in a nice restaurant, without any fear of being called away for more important things.”

Spock doesn’t feel _fear_ for that, but he does understand the trepidation in that knowledge. Aboard the Enterprise, they’re _always_ on duty, even in their off hours. On the other hand, Jim’s private quarters do afford them more privacy than the mess hall. 

Jim’s smile softens. He quietly concludes, “Meld with me later. Then you’ll see how much I value this moment.”

Spock doesn’t need to meld for that. He can see the appreciation in Jim’s eyes. Spock feels it too, even if he won’t express it the same way that Jim will. He admits, “I was hoping to renew our bond regardless.”

Jim grins. He must know what Spock’s thinking—that he’ll dive into Jim’s mind not through the standard points of contact, but from everywhere that he can touch—they’re going to savour their few days on Earth with as much intimacy as they can manage, Spock every bit as fierce for it as his human counterpart. But that must wait for their bedroom.

The waitress arrives with their meals, and they eat in a comfortable silence, one of Jim’s hands still finding Spock’s beneath the table.


End file.
